Begonia Rhodora
by CherryRipe765
Summary: 75 Years, 75 Games and 75 Victors. Everyone of them a different story, a different way to survive. This is the telling of one of those few who walked away. Happy 52nd Hunger Games and know that the odds are ever in your favour.
1. Epilogue

The harsh beating of an army of footfalls echoed across the ground. All of them march in the early hours under the darkness of the sky, towards the lush green forest. All of them carrying an axe in their hand as they prepare for the harsh hours of labour ahead of them. They settled along the edge of the forests, where the trees were already down. So with all of them standing in line, axes raised they started the day's work.

As the sun rose higher into the sky, the axes swang back and forth, slowly but surely chipping away the numerous trees. A chorus of the same notes, whoosh –clung, whoosh-clung, all being taken by force from the sea of trees. Yet there's one tree in this sea that means something. A lone oak tree, standing tall and strong, housing a family of three. The Mockingjay's nest rests in the branches high out of the reach of the lumbers below. They sit in their nest and in some way, somehow they know this day is different. They can sense the dark clouds handing over every individual. You can tell in their song, a hundred noises they could choose to replicate yet they follow the tune of one.

Begonia Rhodora was the name of the tune they followed.


	2. An Axe In A Tree

Begonia woke up long before the sun showed itself and dressed into the heavy pants and jacket that was compulsory when working out in the forests. Under the dark of night she exited the front door after having slipped on her only pair of shoes and pulled her mess of brown, curled hair up in a rubber band. Picking up her axe from the porch she joined the herd of muscle that passed through the street. They twisted and turned through the poorer streets of District 7 until they reached the hill that travels down to the mass of trees. She walked beside one of the youngest members of the herd. The twelve year old was a new face, only having worked beside them all for a week. She could never understand how someone could allow a child to work at that age, but she had to do the same thing. Support a family at a younger age then the boy beside her. If that weren't the case she wouldn't be standing beside him.

Her axe hung heavy in her hand as she jogged along the path to the forests, passing the oak tree that stood a hundred metres from the edge of the trees that were set to fall. Passing through the field of tree stumps she made her way over to the burly figure of the 20 year old slowly making his way towards the tree line.

"Hey, Bena," the usual brightness to Wilt's voice was gone, along with the light in his brown eyes. He was a handsome man, tall, broad shoulders, mess of sunlight brown hair and eyes of the same colour. Wilt Hollan was also the target of her affection, but that was mostly because he's kind, funny, charismatic and the only person to ever give a damn about her. And he will probably never feel that way about her. She walked beside him as they continued on towards the tree they were set to take down.

"How's the family?" she asked as she rolled her sleeves up towards her biceps. She had seen his siblings only yesterday, but this was a different situation. He's exhausted sigh told her everything she needed to know, an early morning waking to his youngest sister screaming about the horror of making it to the age of 12. The undeniable fact that anyone could end up with their name on the lucky piece of paper. Even herself.

"That bad," he looked back up at her with a snap of the head, his chiselled jaw set in fear.

"I keep trying to tell her that it's not going to happen, her name is only in there once! But, Lily, she's certain that it will be her. She's sure of it, going on all morning about how this year is different, how it's unlike last year and the year before that and... and I guess in a way I agree with her," the fear in his jaw travelled through his voice till he trailed off.

"You think she'll be reaped? Like you said her names only in there once, it's not very likely, is it? Hell, my names in 24 times and the likely hood of me been reaped still isn't life threatening! Wilt she is not going to be reaped," they stopped in front of the tree, she leaned her axe against it and she placed her hands on each side of his face, forcing him to look at her as she whispered to him, "she's going to be fine."

She had hoped that what she said would have stopped his irrational thoughts but when the fear in his eyes continued to stare down into hers she realised she had only made it worse.

"24 times?"

* * *

The sun hanged just above the white capped mountains, indicating the early hours of the morning had shifted to just before midday when they would be heading back into the District. The army in the forests continued to swing at the trees in a state of disappear for whoever the unlucky individuals were. Begonia however refused to let the fear that was settling into her stomach reach her head, or her heart and started to hum. Just a simple four note tune, each one representing the different motions of her axe, its rise, its fall, its damage and its withdrawal. A little tune to help keep her in time and keep up her hopes. She wasn't the only one singing it though; it rang through the forest, echoing off of the mountains with the help of a little family of three that rest in the oak a few hundred metres away. The Mockingjay's carried it further then just one tone death human could. The four out of tune notes that were played by a choir of birds put a smile on Begonia's face, surely when something as beautiful as this happens it can only be your lucky day.

* * *

Both Begonia and Wilt travelled back up the hill at the back of the pack, both with their jackets and axes in their hands revealing their blackened white singlets. The sweat of the half days work clung to them, sticking every bit of fabric to skin. The chill of the air was calming their heated skin while the sun continued to bat down upon them. As they walked she was tempted to reach out and take his hand, it was only know catching up with her that 24 really isn't that little of a number when it comes to the possibility of being reaped. She had a great chance of being reaped unlike her sister who only had her name in 7 times, the least an 18 year old could have. But that didn't mean luck couldn't be on her side. They travelled closer to the oak tree with the family of three, still at the tail end of all masses leaving.

"Throw it!" Wilt encouraged. She turned to stare at him in disbelief.

"No one could get it in to the tree from this distance you idiot," he mocked his injury from the insult by placing his hands over his chest and quickly letting them fall to his sides when he responded.

"I know that, idiot. I meant when we get closer, for good luck," he looked at her in hope, in the form of puppy dog eyes, that she would bless them with good luck again this year. So she joined the queue of those 18 and under that worked in the forests. A tradition between the workers, every year those of reaping age were lined up and each one by one threw the axe in their hand at the oak that sat by itself. She found herself behind the 12 year old she walked beside that very morning. It wasn't so long till he was at the very front of the queue, in a way he was very similar to her when she first did this, only just managing to send the axe in the direction of the tree. That was also how she met Wilt, he was standing right behind her and the then 15 year old was by far the best, even against the eldest in the line. The boy in front of her ran up towards the tree, giddy with excitement that he had even managed to aim it in the right direction. Next it was her, with the muttered wish of 'please don't let it be Lily' she threw with all the power in her body and the axe hurled right towards the oak and dug itself firmly within its trunk placing another scar on its flesh. She walked up to the oak and just as she started to pull the axe out of the trunk the Mockingjay's started back up with the song she was humming previously. As she and Wilt jogged back up the slop that lead towards the District, she could tell that although this day was when the clouds hung long her wish was made true, all because the four notes followed them as they ran back into the streets of the their home.

* * *

Their pace settled as they came to a still at the corner of the street she lived in, the mud hanging heavy on the soles of her leather boots. Goofy smiles settled across their faces showing just how childish they are for 17 and 20. However, the brightness of their expressions slowly faded, she knew what was coming next.

"What did you wish for? When you threw the axe," his breath was still trying to catch up with him as he gasped his way through the question. She waited to respond till when she had her breath back.

"Lily's going to be fine," she assured him, "she's going to be just fine." He pulled her close to himself in a short, sweet, thankful embrace. He pulled away after whispering a 'thank you.' With a wave Wilt walked off, so she turned up the street and made her way to the porch of one of the many wooden boxes in the street. Seated out the front was one of the most beautiful in the District, Laurel Rhodora. The 18 year old was the living image of the perfect child, and the complete opposite of Begonia. Laurel was slender yet still curvy, Begonia on the other hand was butchered and bulked muscle. Laurel was perfectly pale skin due to never having lifted a finger while Begonia had a blotched tan from varying amounts of exposure to the sun. Laurel is waist length dead straight black hair that never seemed to have one knot, Begonia sported shoulder length mud brown hair that hang in tight curls. Sparkling light brown eyes and the dullest of greens that always carried a glint of mischief. The only thing they shared in common was their height and the rose bud shape of their lips.

The relationship between the two sisters had always been patchy. Many speculated that the tension was due to the difference in personality, one carrying an air of elegance the other an air of mischief. Though Begonia was not as mischievous as her smile would assure, she was both fierce and secluded due to her upbringing and Laurel did not possess an elegant personality, she had let her physical beauty get to her head and as a result was passive and unaware of the superiority she had towards others. But you can't blame Laurel for her cruelty, she doesn't know better, she was raised on a thrown. Begonia knows it's not her fault, Laurel was just lucky enough to be born the spitting image of their mother and Begonia was unlucky enough to be the last child. Yet she still felt resentment towards her sister, she was sent to waste away labouring, while the eldest was given the finest things their lifestyle could provide. That could be seen in the outfit she was set to wear to the reaping, a light blue dress that clung to her form and the black slippers that cost a month and a half of Begonia's pay. Her hair was pull on top of her head in a picture perfect do and not a bit of dirt littered her skin.

"Is the water still warm?" Begonia addressed towards her sister in a harsh, cold tone as she ascended the stairs.

"It was over an hour ago, if you had bothered to hurry up then you might have had warm water," Laurel responded while staring at her nails.

"A 'no' would do," was all Begonia said as she placed her axe by the door and made her way through it.

* * *

Like Laurel had said the water was cold, freezing cold. So Begonia bathed as quickly as she could and tried to scrub the permit layer of dirt on her skin off with a bar of soap that was mostly acid. She hadn't bothered washing her hair as it would have lengthened the process and she had already spent too long in the pool of ice. Unlike her sister, what she was forced to wear was not flattering in the slightest, a plain dirt green dress and the only shoes she owned, her leather boots.

Only when she was about to leave the rotting box of a house did she finally see her father sitting in the only stable chair they owned. Furze Rhodora was a sad man, he lived his life with very little connection to others and spent his days working or locked inside the wooden box wilting away. He had never taken much pleasure in raising the youngest, and he never believed himself able of loving a child as much as he does his eldest. He had feed them both until he found out that his youngest was working. "You want to live in my house and eat my food you can start paying," he had screamed when he found out. So she did pay for shelter and to keep herself feed and clothed. As a child it's a harsh reality, but she lives in a harsh world and Furze was just a cowardly man still in love with a name on a gravestone.

"How are you?" she asked as she hopped around on one foot trying to get her feet into her shoes without stopping to put them on. He only ever responded to her if he could find a way to remind her of the horror she had caused this family.

"She's beautiful, your sister, just like your mother, but you wouldn't know, would you?" he continued to stare out the window directly at his daughter. The pride swelled his eyes with tears.

"One day a man will be lucky enough to tie hands with her, one day she will do this family proud and marry out of the poverty she lives in, one day," sometimes it would appear as if he had forgotten his youngest all together, and the words he whispers in her presence may be harsh, but they were true. Laurel could make it out, she could find a husband that would treat her like a queen and spare her from the poverty many faced in the District, Begonia was stuck in the decaying waste of the outer edge of the District, where her only means of food was the meat that was sold in back alleys, where the electricity was rarely available and where the drinking wells could go days without being connected to the District's dam.

* * *

She was stuck to the dirt road she walked on beside her sister. Laurel seemed to glide across the mud like the wind, where as Begonia trampled her way up the roads towards the District centre. You could see the masses of people gathered in the stone plaza, many of the children already segregated by their age in front of the decorated stage. The Capitol's banners littered the sky and stood on the stone floor cold and passive towards the citizens of Panem. The sisters walked side by side as they settled in the line to have their names marked as present. Begonia tried furiously to find Wilt or his siblings in the crowd and Laurel was trying her hardest to have the eye of every male. Only one was successful.

As she handed over the drop of her blood she was still unable to see any of them, it wasn't until she was standing with the 17 year olds did she see little Lily, clinging on the necklace that hung around her neck. But by then it was too late, the mess of neon orange hair was already centre of the stage.

"Hello, District 7 and before we get started a little something from the Capitol," Till was his name, well it might have been she didn't remember. He had been the District's escort for three years now, since the last one was promoted to District 4. Till had a habit of emphasising every fourth word, and it was a habit that wasn't appreciated by those in the District.

The film of the Capitol's saving grace ended as quickly as it started as well as the speeches that followed, leaving the dark cloud that hung above an entire country threatening to burst and cover them all in a shower of acid. This was not a pleasant moment for anyone in the District's.

"Well, as always, the Girls first," and just like that every person in that District clenches up and all of them whispering silent prays and wishes that it isn't a friend, isn't a daughter, a sibling, that it isn't themself. And with the drop of a hand and a name on a piece of paper, the cloud finally bursts.

"Begonia Rhodora."

* * *

If only Till Kracken had moved his hand just a little left, if only he had touched the one right beside that which was inked with Begonia Rhodora. But if that were the case then her wish wouldn't be true and the little girl that screamed herself to sleep would have been right, but no Lily Hollan was saved by a man who favoured the right, but most importantly she was saved by an axe in the tree.

* * *

**Hello to anyone who reads this, um this is my first time writing a fanfic but I've had this idea for awhile. I hope you enjoy it so far even though it's just one chapter. Anyway I would really appreciate feed back, what you liked what you didn't like that kind of stuff. And yeah that's t for this chapter I think, so bye.**

**Oh and I don't own the Hunger Games.**


	3. The Cards We're Dealt

The name chilled down her body, her own name. Begonia Rhodora, it was hanging just in front of her, she could almost see it in the air like she could see it in the faces of the girls around her. In what felt like forever, the name finally sunk in no longer floating in front of her. That was her, she was reaped, Begonia Rhodora was going to die. Right after that thought she snapped, she wasn't going to die, she refused too. In that second she started playing the game.

* * *

The walk down towards the stage was long, even longer if you were trying to hide you fear and mask it with confidence. It wasn't until she made it to the opening of the rows of children did it no longer feel like a mask. At the sight of little Lily her face split into a grin, it was just a reflex from having spent many hours trying to cheer the little girl up. But with a smile in place she ascended the stairs to stand beside the orange mess of a human and wait for the next tribute to be called.

It is quite a daunting sight, a hundred eyes all on you for what could more than possible be the last time. All accept one pair, right up the back hidden within the 18 year olds, Laurel was trying her hardest not to cry, she might not have been kind to her sister but that didn't mean she did not love her, it didn't mean she did not care. Begonia stood upon the stage and from the eyes of the District she didn't look weak, she didn't look timid, she appeared ready as if she had been waiting her life to stand in front of them all on death row for a crime she never committed. With the smile of comfort she had on her face it was no surprise why some had already picked her as a favourite and why few had decided she would more than likely be one of the first to go.

Having taken her place as tribute beside Till Kracken she refused his offer, with a shake of her head, to say a few words to her District, why would she want to? Why would they now, after years of being treated as an outsider, care for who she is and what she has to say? With her shoulders back and a light smile on her face she waited for the bundle of orange to continue.

"So now for the boys," the high pitch squeal left a ring in the air. A pale hand dipped into the glass bowl pulling out the name of just another unlucky child. With a click-clack of wooden soles over the cement stage, green lips settled in front of the microphone and moved over the words, "Hem Tyler."

A black haired boy walked his way towards the stage from the 12 year olds section of the crowd. He walked with slump shoulders and with his gaze on his feet. He trod quickly, rushing his ascent to the stage and stood beside Till a tiny frame of rushed breaths. From here she saw the similarity in his appearance to Laurel's, raven black hair and brown sparkling eyes that shined with threatening tears. Hem was looking off into the crowd staring directly at something and his gaze was unwavering.

"Are there any volunteers?" Till Kracken shrilled at the people below him. After a few short breaths the boy started crying, slowly at first but quickly bubbled up into hysteria of breathy, tear stricken gasps. Not until then did Begonia pay attention to the one face in a crowd of many that the boy was looking at. Within the 18 years stood a black haired male with his head hung in shame. An identical replica of the child the stood across from her, except the elder would have a greater chance of making it out of the games alive. With that simple glimpse towards the back of the crowd she understood why the boy was in tears, they say that the war of the dark days is what turned brother on brother, but the Games make one forget their own blood. She turned her gaze back on the crowds however the light smile she had before was gone, in its place was a cold hearted stare that would have frightened any man out of his skin.

"Now you two shake hands," Till Kracken continued on even if he was put a little on edge by the cries of the boy beside him. Begonia turned and reached a hand out towards the little boy. She grasped his tiny hand in her own and held in firmly, but softly as to not frighten the boy. As they shook and before they were rushed into the Hall behind them Till finished the ordeal of the Reaping.

"District Seven's tributes for the 52nd Annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

* * *

The room she was rushed into had a natural tone of rich woods and red velvet, surrounded by high walls of a copper colour. The only light flooded in from the windows that rested just below the ceiling. She heard the snap of the door closing behind her as she was all but throwing in. She stood in the middle of the room, as still as she could be. The feeling was all too unreal, the dark cloud that hung over them had finally burst, only to reveal the beginnings of a devastating storm. So she stood staring at the red velvet of the couch in front of her trying not to shake, for what felt like an eternity. Or until the door opened with an echoing click and through it came a hurling mass of muscle.

Wilt wrapped her up in his arms and they stood there together. He acted as an anchor as she tried to settle herself back into reality. Her mind was muttering, on a constant replay, 'I'm going to die, I'm going to die.' It wasn't till she realised that Wilt was muttering "No you're not," that it registered she was saying it out loud. So silencing herself, she hung on to Wilt a little tighter, and sure enough her mind rested. They held on to each other, as she continued to breath heavily into his shoulder. Just as they heard the click of the door they finally broke the silence.

"You have to come home okay," Wilt let go of her shoulder's to hold on to her face, "you can't leave me to die old alone."

She didn't get to respond as he was dragged from the room by the white uniform of the Peacekeeper stationed outside her door. She was left again in silence. Staring at the door, unmoving, in a daze. She was startled when the door clicked open again, even more surprised when Laurel walked through the door. The black haired girl walked right up to her, and pulled Begonia's curls from behind her back and rested them over her shoulders. The brown eyed girl settled her hands on her sister's arms and looked her dead in the eye.

"Remember, that all they want is a show, so show them you're strong, that you're skilled. Show them you're smart, funny, show them you're deadly, but most importantly show them someone they will love. Present yourself as a fighter; it's your safest option." She stopped to chew on her top lip.

"Why a fighter, what if I don't want to be a fighter," Begonia's tone was harsher then she had meant it to be, but she didn't care, what if she didn't want to be a fighter, but just fly under the radar.

"Because when you walked up onto that stage, you were strong and confident. What, what's that old saying that dad uses all the time?" Laurel questioned.

"Play the cards we're dealt, 'cause it's the only hand we'll get?" She was at a loss as to why that would mean anything but she still listened.

"Yeah, that one, you might not have trained your whole life for this but when you walked up those stairs you played your cards. Now you have no choice, the whole damn Capitol saw a fighter when they looked at you, so you can't play the weakling, or the innocent one. You get to the Capitol and you can be nothing but deadly. Show them a fighter, get in the arena and pick up an axe from there you'll be fine, you'll win. Just remember that you're smart and you're skilled." Laurel reached behind her neck and pulled a silver chain over her head, off of it hung a plain sliver band. She spun in around in her hand before she draped it over Begonia's shoulders.

"Was it hers?" She questioned as it stilled on her chest, the ring cold against her flesh.

"Yes." They both looked at the ring in a comfortable silence, one looking on in sorrow, the other in wonder.

Finally Laurel made her way toward to doors, just as she had twisted the handle and pulled it towards her, she was stopped by one last question.

"How am I meant to kill? How do I just take someone's life?" The only aspect of the Games that she was sure she couldn't fulfil, the brutal murder of innocent children.

Laurel looked back and brown eyes met with green. As she walked out, with a shrug of her shoulders she answered.

"You've done it before."

* * *

**Hello again, quickly I would like to say sorry for not having updated in awhile. Also a couple of things, sorry this chapter isn't as long as the last and a warning to the few people who actually read this story, I will eventually have the change the rating for it because the Hunger Games will be the Hunger Games, you know, bloody and violent. So yeah that's all for this chapter, thank you for reading and if you have any criticism or advice feel free to let me know. E out.**

**P.S I don't own the Hunger Games. **


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